


Prefix

by Tierfal



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Crack, Humor, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierfal/pseuds/Tierfal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor breaks out the hypervodka.  A semantics discussion ensues.  And then so do other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prefix

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Hiza_Chan, who shared [sheer brilliance](http://i1234.photobucket.com/albums/ff410/phantasmik/tumblr_lfyi3i4G2N1qzev7do1_1280.png) that I could only explain with a drunken OT3 orgy. So I did.

“Hypervodka,” Rory says.

“ _Well_ ,” Amy drawls out slowly, “yeah.  I mean… unless what’s in your glass has changed in the last fifteen seconds, and you didn’t even notice.”

Rory blinks.  Amy squints at the glass in question for a moment, attempting to determine if it’s particularly suspicious.  She met some dodgy glasses in her day.  Many of them jerked her wrist in order to upend themselves on her when she tried to keep drinking from them.

“It’s just…” Rory purses his lips, then bites one, then licks them both.  “Why’s it ‘hyper’?  When I think ‘hyper,’ I think—you know.  Attention-deficit disorder, right?  You remember that time Andy mixed up the patients’ lunch trays, and the little girl with pneumonia got black coffee instead of her cocoa?  And she was—she was—”

“Ricocheting off the walls and threatening the very fate of the universe itself by testing the bounds of molecular energy?” Amy finishes, perhaps a bit more loudly than the utterance deserves.

“Yeah!” Rory says.  “You remember that?”

Amy raises an eyebrow at him.  “Might do, since I just told you about it.”

“You ought to try and remember,” Rory says earnestly.  “It was horrific.  Horrificafying.”

What Amy should have remembered is that Rory’s sarcasm detectors malfunction awfully when he’s drunk.  Unfortunately, Amy’s remembering-useful-details-about-Rory detectors follow suit when she is.

…what were they talking about?

“What were we talking about?” Rory asks, so maybe he makes up for sardonic failure with psychic capacity.  Or maybe he’s just confused, too.

Amy stares into her glass, and then it hits her like a ton of bricks, or perhaps like a large blue box slamming heedlessly into the ground because its driver is the one who found the case of strangely angular blue bottles in the first place and promptly began distributing them.

“Hyper!” Amy says.  “The prefix.  Which we have unanimously decided is grossly inapplicable.  Since ‘hyper’ ought to entail at least some shade or degree of hyperactivity, or at least that’d be fun, so we’re disappointed.”

Rory is gazing at her, rapturous and doe-eyed.

“I love you,” he says soppily, shifting his drink and sopping a bit of it onto the table for good measure.  “And I love your vocabulary.  Your vocabulary’s, like, sexy.”

“I hope so,” Amy says.  “But it can’t explain this ‘hyper’ thing, so it’s not perfect.”

She’s a little saddened by the realization, but she’s also pleased at her own self-awareness.  Clearly her alcohol tolerance has improved since the days of the Dodgy Self-Emptying Glasses Which Really Did Not Play Fair.

Only then the whole kitchen tips wildly, and this glass joins the ranks.

Amy doesn’t even have time to howl her displeasure towards the direction-that-would-be-sky-but-perhaps-they’re-still-in-the-Vortex before the kitchen door is flung open, and the Doctor poses in the center of the doorway.  He is perfectly still for a long moment of silence.

Then he explodes.

…figuratively.  Into motion, madness, and sound in approximately equal quantities.

“ _Isn’t this the best day ever I’m so glad I found that crate isn’t hypervodka deliciousectable have you tried it with Skittles in ’cause then it’s crunchy and I do like my vodka crunchy and I do like_ you _, Ponds_!”

There is a round of blurrily fast, feverish hugging.  When it is over, Amy notices that Rory’s shirt has vanished.  She wonders if there are any disconcerting implications of this observation, and then she realizes that the room has gotten rather breezy around her knees.

Discon _skirt_ ing implications, then.

The Doctor is clutching the stolen clothing to his chest, then smelling it, then dancing an elegant tango with it, and then he drops it to the floor and seizes one of each Amy’s and Rory’s hands.

“Ponds!” he shouts, despite the fact that he’s about three inches from both of their faces.  (He has rather nice tonsils.)  “ _Ponds_!” he repeats, louder, as he begins to tug hard on their hands and tow them together down the hall.  “Sex!  Now!  _Before it’s too late_!”

So that’s fun.

The Doctor crashes like a biplane with broken wings immediately after, passing out with his face buried in the nearest pillow and his hair sticking up everywhere.  Rory is making a very strong, focused effort to put the Doctor’s abandoned bow-tie on Amy, but his fingers don’t seem to be obeying whatever bit of his brain somehow remembers how to tie one.

“Guess we figured it out,” he says.

“Why it’s called _hyper_ vodka?” Amy asks.

Rory bests the bow-tie at last and beams.  “Yes, that.”

Amy straightens it fastidiously.  “I think we should figure it out every night.”

“Yes,” Rory says.  “ _That_.”


End file.
